Just Old Lights
by Lady Lan
Summary: "You wouldn't understand. I know he's planning on using me to kill billions of innocent people. To wipe out planets- entire solar systems." "I wouldn't understand what it's like to be a tool used to kill?"


Just realized this little oneshot only got posted on A03.

...

She tapped her knuckles against his door-once, twice-and waited. It was familiar feeling, staying too late in the lab and then stopping by his quarters in what should have been the quiet of night. However, they lived on a space station, so people were always on shift and with the ever-present glow of artificial lights and the the dark, vastness of space all around, day bled into night with no marker except the clocks keeping universal standard time.

Bulma shifted on her toes, smoothed her hands over her issued tech uniform and waited until the door slid open with a gusty hiss. He stood on the other side of the threshold, wearing only his lycra bodysuit and a smirk.

She took two steps into the room and the door slid closed behind her. Without bothering with a proper greeting, she pressed her lips against his.

He was eager, ready. His lips parted and he kissed her back. She tugged at his lower lip with her teeth, she moved her hands from the hard muscles of his chest and let her fingertips glide across his abs. Distracting herself, trying not to think-just do. He was warm, solid. She hated everything about this place, but she never could bring herself to hate him.

Vegeta pulled back, breaking the kiss, and she slumped forward, panting, using his brow for support.

If he were a being capable of expressing concern, Bulma would think he was worried about her. But it was just the tricky old star lights playing off his skin. Lights from places that had probably already been destroyed. Some, quite possibly, by him.

"What's wrong?" His voice was low, sharp like a knife's blade and nearly as cold.

Bulma blinked, being sure there wasn't a trace of tears in her eyes as she replied, "Wrong?"

"You seem…" His eyes moved across her face, and he settled with, "Distracted."

Since she didn't want to talk, she kissed him again, but this time he didn't react.

"What? Suddenly now you want to spend our time together conversing?" she asked meanly.

"No. But I'm not fucking a crying woman."

Bulma swiped the back of her hand across her eyes, but they were dry. She felt like stamping on his toes and leaving, but she wasn't quite ready to go. Not yet.

A silence settled between them. It was spiked with electricity that made the fine hairs on Bulma's arm stand on end.

Finally, Vegeta exhaled and asked, "What's wrong with you?"

Stretching her toes inside her white sneakers, Bulma bit her lip and admitted, "Frieza."

If she hadn't known him, she would've missed the slight widening of his eyes. The tightening of his jaw. The slight movements that meant Vegeta had reacted to her words just as she knew he would. Because while they'd discussed their pasts and presents and what-could've-beens, they both stayed mostly quiet on thoughts of the emperor.

But speaking his name was enough, the rest was left unsaid. Vegeta lifted a hand and dropped it onto her shoulder and squeezed. It was passable comfort and the urge to cry was so strong Bulma wasn't sure she'd be able to fight it. Not this time.

"I should go," she said, injecting her signature confidence in her words and smiling tightly. "Goodbye, Vegeta. It's…" She studied his handsome features, the ones she'd once taken for granted. And, because she was Bulma Briefs and not a complete sap, she winked and flashed her teeth in a grin. "It's been fun."

Vegeta watched her go, not as confused as he ought've been. A thoughtful little crease settled between his brows.

Hand hovering above the control pad, Bulma froze. She'd wanted a goodbye fuck, but this wasn't how she wanted to remember him. How she wanted to be remembered. So she left and the door hissed behind her before clicking with quiet finality. And then she was nearly jogging to her lab. With shaking hands, she gathered the contents of her desk and the notes stacked at her desk and compressed them in a capsule.

She tucked in her pocket when a voice behind her asked,

"What are you doing?"

A half-turn, and then she was facing Vegeta once more.

"You shouldn't see this. If you do, you'll have to stop me."

"From what?" He looked at her, hard, already knowing the answer. Just waiting for her to confirm it, but Bulma stared back defiant, silent. His lips hooked down on one end. "You're running."

"I have to. He's… You wouldn't understand." She felt weak despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins, making her heart thump frantically against her ribcage.

To his credit, Vegeta looked insulted. "Try me."

"I made a volatile gas. A poison," Bulma admitted. "I thought I could pretend I was ignorant of its purpose. Or carry on thinking it was only going to be used on enemy soldiers. That it would keep our guys from having to risk their lives by stepping on a battlefield. But you know me, I'm not stupid."

"You're stubborn is what you are," he growled.

Her lips tugged into a sad smile. "Probably. But I know he's planning on using it to kill billions of innocent people. To wipe out planets- entire solar systems."

Vegeta's insult morphed to fury. "I wouldn't understand what it's like to be a tool used to kill?" He stretched his arms wide, and Bulma watched him, heart sinking to her feet.

Only… Only the Vegeta she knew delighted in fighting and seemed indifferent to the lives he took. She hated fighting. Physical fighting, at least, and she wasn't indifferent to killing innocents any way she sliced it.

She clutched the capsule inside her pocket and explained, "I've located the Resistance headquarters. I'm going to bring my notes to them, and some samples of the gas. I think I can develop an anecdote. The Resistance should know how to distribute it."

Vegeta snorted. "And then what? The poison doesn't work so Frieza sends in his soldiers to finish the job. You're one person. You can't stop it."

Her glare hardened. "I'm going to at least try." And then she hesitated. "Are you going to stop me?"

"No."

Her blue eyes were big and round and clear, and Vegeta looked away.

When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "You could come with me. Join the Resistance. Frieza killed your people, too. You could fight against him."

"I'm needed here." Vegeta looked angry at her for even suggesting he run away from his duties, but he inclined his head toward the door and said, "Go."

She walked toward the exit and stopped just before passing through it. When she met his glare, she smiled. "Maybe my theories about multiverses are true. I bet, out there in at least a couple of them, we got a better ending than this."

He grunted, and she left.

Vegeta made the short trek through the winding, sterile hallways and back to his quarters.

Before a streak of light shot across the sky and an alarm blared, signaling an escapee, he picked up his scouter and thumbed in a passcode. There was a buzz of static before a familiar voice sang,

"Vegeta! Wasn't expecting to hear from you tonight."

"There's a woman headed your way. She can fill you in more on her plans, but just giving you a heads up that she's coming, and she's been cleared by me."

"Oh." There was a pause. "You sent her?"

He growled. "No, I didn't send her. But for a scientific genius she's a complete idiot with no tact." With some effort, he grunted out, "Be sure none of my men off her just because she doesn't know how to bite her tongue."

The man on the other end of the com chuckled. "Noted. And Prince Vegeta, thanks for taking care of things on that end."

He hung up without bothering to utter a response. His bed was cold, empty, but for the first time he felt like after he killed Frieza, he'd have something to look forward to.


End file.
